


like the moon guides the sea, you complete me

by louisdragme



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, also theres no gryles or whatever its called so dont worry, im so stupid im sorry, larry stylinson - Freeform, their meeting is kind of rough but yeah, um i dont know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisdragme/pseuds/louisdragme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry and louis receive similar mood swings and bruising - whether its a coincidence or the fact that they're soulmates, their chemistry is too much to ignore.</p><p>basically, a shitty soulmate fic, probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the moon guides the sea, you complete me

**Author's Note:**

> so idk this was a fic i started months ago and finally decided to return to !! i hope you guys like it
> 
> the title is some stupid little rhyme i made up please ignore it
> 
> major thanks to my dog for chilling w me while i wrote this you go pal
> 
> my tumblr is louisdragme let me know if I should continue !!

Ever since Harry had been younger, he and his mum, Anne, had been unsure as to why he’d feel random sadness or happiness, or why he’d get bruises on his body. At first, Anne had shrugged it off as Harry being just a kid – kids got bruises often from goofing around with their friends or at the playground, and since they were small, it wasn’t something to be too worried about. The thing that worried Anne most, though, was when she’d wake up to the sound of a six year old Harry bawling his eyes out for no reason, or laughing hysterically when they were in the grocery store.

It’d been happening ever since Harry could remember, could always remember going to the hospital and getting blood tests or being examined for depression or bipolar disorder. Getting his blood taken hurt, but Harry would always get to pick a sticker of his favourite super hero – Spiderman, who else? - and his mum would always buy him ice cream. It was a fair trade, he supposed. Harry didn’t have depression nor bipolar disorder – the doctors couldn’t explain his sudden mood changes or the marks showing up on Harry’s body, even if he hadn’t fallen or bumped into anything. Harry was in as perfect health as a six year old could be, no flu attacking his system and no chemical imbalances that would cause the changes, and the doctors struggled to try and label what Harry had.

When Harry reached the age of 8, then 9, and 10, the bruises started to become more serious. They were much larger, taking up the majority of his thigh or his entire bicep. They’d hurt, often prevent Harry from going outside to be with his friends to play footie. Not that he was any good, but he still enjoyed the game nonetheless.

“Hey, Haz? How’d you get another bruise?” Liam, Harry’s best mate, had asked, causing Harry to look down, eyes gaping at the sight of the massive bruise just above his knee.

“I don’t know,” Harry had whimpered, tracing his fingers along the outline of the large bruise, barely fighting back tears. It hurt, the area sensitive, but he’d ran home despite the pain and cried to his mum about how he didn’t know how he’d gotten it.

It scared Harry, the rush of emotions often taking place at the most random times and in the worst places possible. Once, he’d been in the washroom and had started bouncing around, unable to help the grin that hurt his cheeks, despite the fact that he didn’t even feel spectacularly happy.

People often labelled Harry as the weird one, due to the fact that he was either extremely happy or in tears. Liam had been Harry’s only real best mate as he’d grown up, the kind boy not quite understanding what was going on with Harry but ignoring it nonetheless. The two got along quite well – Liam came more out of his shell and Harry became friends with Niall through Liam, and soon they were the three best friends that were rarely apart.

✿✿✿

Louis had the very same issue, though as he was a few years older than Harry, Jay had always figured it was just him being emotional as he grew up into the near teenager age.  Louis had always received bruises from playing footie – he was good, but he liked to be a bit physical, which resulted in large bruises on his arms and legs.

“I’m the best,” Louis would say, standing tall – even if he was short – and as much as his mates Zayn and Nick loved him, they weren’t hesitant to admit he was a smug 13 year old.

However, Louis randomly gets smaller bruises. On the inside of his arms or on the sides of his wrists, parts on his body that Louis didn’t use to play footie with.

He’d always been a hyperactive kid. Whether it was being unable to sit still in the middle of class or running around the house late at night after Jay had tried to put him to bed, Louis was almost always happy and with a smile on his face. Often, though, Louis would get extremely sad, and lock himself in his room for hours, which worried Jay. This wasn’t how her son’s usual behaviour and she hoped Louis didn’t have depression, not at such a young age.

Louis would often deny the idea of him crying. Though it happened often – like when he broke his ankle, he cried, obviously. But the random out bursts of tears that had no explanation _embarrassed_ him to no end, the young teen not wanting the other lads in school to tease him for being so weak. Louis refused to be called a ‘wimp’ or for people to claim he wouldn’t be good at football because he was a cry baby. If Louis was anything, it was the opposite of a cry baby.

As Louis grew up, he’d tried to hide the emotions, whether it was getting up and running out of his classroom without asking the teacher first, (and when the other students asked why, Louis would shrug it off as him being bored and not wanting to be there anymore. Louis was cool.) or locking himself away in his room.

At age nineteen, Jay had finally had enough. Louis was going to be moving out on his own, with his own life and problems, and she was worried that he may have some sort of personality disorder. Surely going from super happy to extremely sad wouldn’t be a very good thing to have as a trait, especially not if Louis decided to become a teacher, like he’d wanted. What if he broke down in the middle of class? Since Jay worked at the hospital, she’d taken Louis for tests, and had found it odd when she was going through another patients file – Harry Styles – who had the same behaviour changes and abnormal bruising as Louis.

Jay wrote down Anne’s number and put the slip of paper securely in the pocket of her shirt – which had kittens all over it, as her younger patients liked to give them names and would giggle. It’s later that night, after Jay was sure Louis would be out of the house that she decided to give Anne a ring. Surely, she would eventually tell Louis, but not quite yet. She wanted to make sure the two of them were on the same page before she brought her son into it. On the third ring, someone picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Anne Cox?” Jay asks, a bit hesitantly. Jay knows better than to take patient information home, let alone contact them when not the nurse assigned to the patient, but Jay couldn’t help it. This could finally maybe help her understand what condition her son had.

“Yes, who is this?”

“I’m Jay Tomlinson,” she pauses, smoothing out her shirt as she sits down on the couch, “I work at the hospital. I know this could be considered very inappropriate, but I was wondering if we could talk about your son?”

✿✿✿

“Mate, watch where the hell you’re going,” and that was rude, Louis knows it, but as much as the lad is pretty and Louis would like to ask him out for coffee, Louis is exhausted and not in the mood for being charmed.

Louis had come to terms with his sexuality after he’d moved out on his own at age twenty. Louis had always known he wasn’t quite into women in a sexual way, but he’d finally admitted to liking lads and celebrated with a drunken shag.

Now, at age 22, Louis was face to face with one of the most beautiful boys, and all he could feel was anger. “I’ve got coffee on my favourite shirt, now, thanks,” he snaps, watching as the lads face turns from an apologetic smile to a closed off expression before looking down at the large stain on Louis’ favourite white button down.

“Well, sorry, but I’m hardly the one that needs to take all the blame,” he murmurs, and his voice is _deep,_ Louis notes, and if he weren’t so tired, maybe they would hook up. But, most likely not, because it seems Louis had wounded the lads’ ego, or something.

Louis rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well, your excuses are hardly going to get the stain out of this shirt, so. Bye,” he dismisses, reaching down to grab his book bag from the ground before walking off in a huff.

At age twenty two, Louis should surely know how to control his emotions, and it only makes him upset when he suddenly goes from angry to sad, as if he’d somehow gotten his emotions from the lad he’d just yelled at.

However, Louis has things to do. Like, going to a school he could hardly afford and working at a shitty book store that barely paid rent, and living off pot noodles while his best mate bitches at him for being so lonely. Honestly, where were the innocent Nick and Zayn from when they were younger?

What Louis doesn’t need, however, are the thoughts of a pretty, baby faced tall lad in his mind. Despite the beauty of his face and body, Louis refused to waste any more time thinking of the yeti-sized person. Honestly, the kids’ feet were huge. Which meant he had a big dick.

“Bloody hell, I need to stop,” Louis hisses to himself at the thought, stumbling into his lecture fifteen minutes late and with a shit coloured stain on his shirt. Honestly, Louis is getting sick of boys and their stupid faces.

Louis ends up passing out halfway through the class due to staying up into the early morning, and no, he is not going to let Zayn say “I told you so.”

✿✿✿

Harry had been having a good day. He’d woken up fresh at 6 AM and did some relaxing yoga before his usual morning run, then came back home to have a hot shower. His breakfast consisted of tea and varied cubed fruit, a staple food in Harry’s diet.

Point being, things were going well until Harry ran into /him/. And, normally, Harry isn’t really rude. Sure, he can get a bit sarcastic, but rarely mean. However, when they bump into each other and spill their coffees everywhere, and the lad starts whining about how it was his fault, Harry’s nice morning had turned to shit.

How can people be so grumpy in the morning? “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” is what Harry wanted to say, but judging by the sour expression on the shorter man’s face, Harry knew a joke wasn’t the way to go.

After the little exchange he’d continued walking to the bakery he worked part time at, whining to Nick – his co-worker and “I do everything half assed” mate.  Harry loved Nick, he honestly did, but it was a wonder the lad managed to keep the job so long. Half the time he’s eating the baked goods Harry had specifically made for an event, and the other he was making customers uncomfortable by talking about his experimental sex life.

Honestly, Nick was just crazy. But, he was Harry’s mate, and only rarely teased him whenever he caught Harry crying as he rolled the dough for his chocolate drizzled croissants.

(When customers would ask what the special ingredient was in Harry’s food, Nick would teasingly say “tears”, yet no one understood but them.)

Awhile later, Harry is startled from his thoughts as he makes their popular chocolate chip cookie by Nick hanging by the kitchen door.  With a sigh, Harry wipes the flour from his hands onto his forest green apron – which matched the colour of his eyes – before he turns towards Nick and offers a pointed look. It’s not the first time he’s been interrupted today, and he just really wants to get this baking done before he has to head to one of his lectures. (Why did he choose business and law? Honestly, it was the furthest thing from music, which was what Harry truly wanted.)

Craning his head to the side, Harry raises a brow and waits for Nick to say something. When he doesn’t, Harry rolls his eyes. “What, Nick?”

“There’s a party tonight,” he pauses, “And, before you say no, I know a few people who will be going. Louis is right fit, definitely your type. Y’know, if you’d get over me, you might shag him,” Nick teases, and Harry snorts.

“We’ll see, yeah? Text me the address, but for now, please kindly get the fuck out of my kitchen?” Harry’s smile is genuine, though, so Nick knows he’s not actually angry.


End file.
